


Morning Habits

by crafteemusic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crafteemusic/pseuds/crafteemusic
Summary: Johnlock light smut.Brief drug addiction mention.This is me tryna write a more sexually assertive John and boy was it difficult!Pls comment and leave kudos! I love to know more about the people who stumble across my fics :3
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 12





	Morning Habits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alice96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice96/gifts).



The morning snow was falling lightly on Baker Street as John opened his eyes a sliver and visually processed his surroundings. Not half a second passed by before his husband snaked an arm around his middle and hugged him close. John grinned and snuggled closer to the detective. What a beautiful Christmas Eve morning.

He was content to stay there as long as possible. John was now completely awake and Sherlock knew that on the days he had free, John was determined to make their mornings worthwhile. Not that Sherlock wouldn’t complain. He wasn’t usually a morning person, but he could be almost anything when John wanted him to be. 

“Sherlock” he whispered with a smile, trying to coax his husband awake. “It’s Christmas Eve morning, Sherlock. I don’t have work and you don’t have a case.”

Sherlock yawned, opening his eyes only a little. “Whatever are we to do today, John. I can sense that this day is destined for unspeakable boredom.”

John scoffed. “No, dear, today is what we make it!” He sat up and playfully swatted Sherlock’s behind. “It’ll only be boring if you let it be. So, what do you want to do today?” 

Sherlock grumbled as John stroked his husbands hair. “Sherlock, we need to finish Christmas shopping before we go over to your parents’ place for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

Looking down, all that was to be seen was a Sherlock shaped lump in the comforter, a lock of unruly brown hair, and a very shut pair of eyes. “John, darling, could we do that tomorrow? I have a mighty need to not go out in the blizzard that is undoubtedly raging outside.”

“Wrong!” John said cheerily. It was so rare that Sherlock was wrong. “The blizzard was last night. It’s only finishing up now.” He peered out the window to assess the street conditions. The stoop has already been swept. The man looked strangely like Mr Baker from the Baker Street Bakery down the street...”

John could tell Sherlock was smiling because his eyebrows were smiling. “I’m so glad we decided to give her her Christmas gift early.”

“He’s not her husband yet, Sherlock. Our final phase has yet to be enacted.”

“Well, I gave her those pre-payed meal cards like we’d discussed. I also told her a bit about the man behind the buns”. 

Johns eyebrows raised in surprise. “I didn’t know you talked to him much. I knew you’ve been in a lot, but you’re not one for small talk, my dear.”

Sherlock opened his eyes and locked gaze with his husband. “I didn’t.”

John scoffed, still entertained by his husbands social quirks. “All right, I’ll bite. What did you tell her and how do you know it’s right?”

“Well, he has a dog and two cats. The dog is his best friend and the cats are relatively new and don’t quite like him yet gathering by the barely healed cat scratches on his arms. Usually when a dog man gets cats it’s because of a woman or girlfriend living with him, so one day I kept tabs on his breaktime habits.”

“Wait-“ interrupted his husband. “How long did you stay at the bakery that day?” 

Sherlock looked at him, pausing for a beat. “Not long. Only about five hours.”

Johns eyes widened rapidly in surprise. “FIVE hours, Sherlock??? What did you do for five straight hours at Baker st Bakery? There’s only so many croissants a man can take.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, John. I bought a cup of coffee and sat at one of the tables and read. There’s a fascinating set of articles out on the importance of a specific type of urban bees and their pollination habits.” He could sense his husband looking at him like he wasn’t quite telling the entire truth. Sherlock sighed. “And yes, I bought a croissant.”

“A single croissant?”

He nodded. “A single croissant. Five times.”

John smiled. “Ah, that’s more believable.”

“Anyway, there were no phone calls, so it’s unlikely he has a new girlfriend, certainly not one who already knows and pays attention to his break schedule. I also overheard him talking to one of his friends about fostering animals, so it’s likely that’s why the cats aren’t used to him.

“He likes the same sports teams as our dear Widow Hudson and I heard him talking about how much he appreciates a good cup of tea and conversation, two things I know she can give him.”

John nodded. “You’ve done your homework, detective Holmes.”

“Indeed. May I go back to sleep now?”

“It’s 8 am, Sherlock, no you can’t go back to sleep. We have things to do today to get ready for Christmas and, besides,” he snuggled next to his husband, doing his best to wrestle some of the comforter from the Sherlock cocoon. “I want to spend time with you.” He managed to get under the blanket with Sherlock and kissed his husbands forehead as he stroked his bare chest. Sherlock gasped quietly, loving the physical touch. John could feel goosebumps rippling over Sherlock’s skin under his touch and smirked as he kissed the soft spot under his ear. 

Sherlock writhed a little under Johns kiss, but based on the twitch of his husbands cock, he liked it. 

“How about we use this morning time for something more intimate.” John whispered, his member getting firm with ideas. 

Sherlock’s heart caught in his throat. ‘Yes, yes!’ he wanted to say. But he also really wanted to sleep some more. “Uhhh, I... uhh” he stammered, falling victim to more tantalizingly sexual neck kisses. He gasped as he felt his husbands cock harden against his thigh. “I... I need m-my beauty sleep, John. Y-you *moan* you interrupted it with your incessant cheery...ness. Oh god, that feels good.” 

John was kissing a line down Sherlock’s body, and his lips had just reached the spot below his bellybutton. He smiled, ever thankful that his husband slept in the nude. He lightly palmed Sherlock’s erection and received a low huff of arousal in return. John beamed. He had Sherlock exactly where he wanted him. 

In one fell swoop, John removed the covers so Sherlock’s naked body was completely exposed. “Ta-da! Now get out of bed, we have work to do.”

Sherlock sat up, mouth agape, watching his husband change from pjs into street clothes. “Wh- what was that?? That little bout of...” Sherlock coughed, trying to find the right term “... physical affection. What was that?!”

John smiled, appearing to completely ignore his own arousal. “A ploy to get you to wake up. Did I succeed?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and put his feet on the rug next to his side of the bed. “Yes, John, you succeeded.” He muttered under his breath. “I could hardly sleep now, what with thinking about what you could do to me.”

Giddy with joy and a bit of manipulative power over his husband, John came over and placed a lingering kiss on the brunettes lips. “Oh, Sherlock,” he growled, “I can do all that and more.”

Sherlock’s face flushed red and he felt his arousal return. Somewhere in his mind he damned himself for always getting so horny so fast for this man, but the better part of his consciousness reminded him that sexual spontaneity was one of the kinkiest things about John. That and his body. And the things he could do with his tongue. And how he cried out when he—

Sherlock shook his head and made his way over to his clothes drawers, led by his triumphantly erect-again member. John suppressed a laugh, loving seeing the usually dominant, forceful, and arrogant detective so vulnerable to him. It was worth ignoring his own budding cock just to tease him like that

Sherlock hissed as he pulled his pants on over his raging erection. “Damnit, John.”

John, now fully clothed, strode over to Sherlock, fully aware of what he wanted and fully prepared to keep it from him. “Yes, Sherlock?”

Sherlock blushed and gestures vaguely down at his hard member. “Why do this to me, John.”

“You like it when I’m spontaneous, dear.” He got close to his husband and whispered in his ear, trailing his fingers down Sherlock’s alabaster torso. “And I like to be in control just as much as you do.”

Sherlock shuddered and closed his eyes. Everything John was saying was true and, in the moment, he didn’t know what to do with that information. His mind was blank with only one focus. John. “I- I know a-and I-“ he gasped and threw his head back as Johns fingers touched his sensitive shaft. He finished his sentence breathily. “... I love it.” 

John kisses the glorious piece of exposed neck that his husband had unwittingly offered him and guided Sherlock’s head down from behind. “You’ll love it later.”

“L-later??” Sherlock’s eyes were glazed over with lust as his husband swayed his ever attractive ass over to fetch Sherlock the rest of his day clothes. “Whatever do you mean ‘later’???”

John handed him his clothes with an unyielding look on his face. “You’ll have to wait.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled on his shirt, silently willing his erection away. “Yes, John, ok.”

He couldn’t see the look on Johns face change to a satisfied smirk. 

Once their clothes were on, they made their way downstairs, despite Sherlock’s grumbling about his blue balls. They had a routine for every common morning, and this day (a day they both had free) wasn’t any different. 

John started with toasting the English muffins and setting out the butter and a spread of jam spreads while Sherlock ground coffee beans to make their regular morning cup of energy (he had gotten quite good at remembering that John doesn’t take sugar in his coffee). It was all terribly domestic, but after the year they’d had they deserved some peace around Christmastime. 

“So what do you gather we should get your parents this year.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat  
down on his side of the table. “I don’t know, John, they have just about everything.”

“This is the first Christmas we’re spending together as a married couple, Sherlock, should we give them an ornament or something?” He bit into his strawberry jam covered breakfast. “Doubtful that their other son is going to get married anytime soon.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “Ever.” 

Smirking, John looked posessively at his husband. “He’s ‘married to his work’, and we all know how people married to their work are impossible to catch and win over,” John ended sarcastically. 

Sherlock blushed. “You’re different, John. You actually tried to pursue a relationship with me. You made an effort where nobody else had before.” He slightly sheepishly licked jam from the side of his mouth. “That’s how you became more important to me than my work, John. You cared enough to stick with me through...” Sherlock shuddered a bit. “Through everything.”

There was a moment of silence. He was right. John had stuck through Sherlock’s numerous (forced) opioid addiction recovery attempts, including the final most grueling one. John had stuck through two years of being lied to and believing that Sherlock was dead. He had been with Sherlock in the thick of Moriartys apparant reappearance. And at the end of all this, Sherlock was able to reveal that he was much more broken than he had ever let on, something John had always seen but never mentioned. 

Now, they were battling Sherlock’s boredom, something that he’d previously used drugs to get rid of. Now he used sleep which medically was better, but John was still investigating better alternatives. 

Sherlock’s inner brokenness was only a small part of why John stayed. He didn’t stay to fix Sherlock, he stayed to be there alongside Sherlock no matter what. He stayed because Sherlock was beautiful and wonderful and awe-inspiring. His mind was another world, something that could only be attempted to be explained by science. His lightening quick wit was something John never knew he needed in a partner, but once he had it he knew he could never let it go. The good times with Sherlock were well worth the bad and lord knows they’d both had enough bad for a lifetime. Far too much. But what mattered was that they were in it together, which was far too sappy for Sherlock to ever admit, but John knew he felt just as deeply for him as he did for Sherlock. 

“A wreath.” Sherlock blurted. “People like having wreaths around the holidays, don’t they?”

John smiled. “A wreath. Sounds good.”

“Mycroft is getting that belt that I still haven’t bought.”

“Today is a good day to do it then.” John took a last sip of his coffee, not feeling the need to point out that today, Christmas Eve, was indeed the last day to do it. 

Gathering the empty plates, Sherlock stood up and began to clear the table. “I know absolutely nothing about wreaths, so I’ll trust you to pick out a good one.”

“But you do, Sherlock. You did that study on English winter foliage and their tensile strengths.”

“That was for ornamental decoration capacity. I thought it would be something to help out the readers of ‘Science of Deduction’. Humans want to read about what trees from what region under what climate are best for decorating for Christmas.”

John stood and finished clearing the table. “Dear, wreaths are made out of branches. You know about branches, you have this fascination over the tensile strength of natural fibers, this being the second study you’ve done on such a thing.”

“Certainly this was a more niche study, what with it being Christmas and all.”

“But that doesn’t change my point, Sherlock. They’re your parents, you should pick out their wreath.”

Sherlock stopped moving and John recognized the look on his face as his bullshit-devising look. Sherlock was going to try and get out of making a domestic decision, especially one regarding his family, no matter what. 

“I never did any practical research on berries or holly placement, John. I merely wrote about the hypotheticals of decoration. The practical application is essential in choosing an appropriate wreath.” Sherlock threw on his coat and popped the collar. “I’m not qualified any more than you.”

John buttoned his coat and sighed. “Let’s just go to the department store and pick out a belt, a wreath, some wrappings, and be done with it.”

Sherlock nodded curtly, nervously side-eyeing his husband. John noticed and grinned. “You’re thinking about White Winter Berries, aren’t you.”

Sherlock furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “I think that’d look best on their red front door, don’t you?”

John intertwined his fingers with Sherlock’s and kissed him. Sherlock melted into the kiss, something John wasn’t expecting. He responded to John enthusiastically and soon his fingers were tied up in Johns short blonde hair. John kissed back, knowing his husbands preference for spontaneity. 

“We’re never going to get these damned gifts, are we?” Sherlock looked into his husbands eyes, trying to read him and hoping against hope that he’d be taken to the bedroom and all of these clothes on him would be thrown across the room. 

John squeezed his hand. “It’s the one thing we have to do today, Sherlock. We can do it then come home and do whatever we want.”

“Eachother,” Sherlock said bluntly. 

“Eachother,” John echoed definitively, feeling his husband smile as they stepped outside and into the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I have decided that I can’t write true Dom!John without Sherlock losing his character. This is fine, but will take some time for me to write well enough. Might just write something explicit to get it out there. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
